


oblation

by natlet



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Gen, unrequited tig/clay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natlet/pseuds/natlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ob·la·tion  [o-bley-shuhn]  (n.); the act of making an offering, especially to a deity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oblation

**Author's Note:**

> set during/post 6x11, spoilers everywhere.
> 
> i hate this fucking show.
> 
> title inspired by and text in italics taken from [As from a Quiver of Arrows](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/240894) by Carl Phillips.

Four trucks, Connor says - unrelated, different jobs, only when they get there the trucks all match, they're just painted different colors, glossy and fresh like they just rolled off the line. Tig takes the pink one, because of course he does. Bobby's got a joke ready and waiting. The key slips into the ignition like it was meant to be there and Tig tries to take it out, tries to undo it, but the truck starts instead.

*

Jax had said he didn't want Tig in the truck with them, but Tig's the one he hands the keys to Clay's cuffs to, so.

*

Clay keeps looking at him like he's waiting for something. Like there's something Tig's supposed to do here. Tig thinks there might be, too, but he can't remember what it is.

*

"Clay," he says, "wardrobe upgrade," and Clay turns to him, hands out like he's expecting it, like all this has already been written somewhere and he's just following along and Tig tries to tell him, tries to warn him, but he can't make the words come out.

*

They should be fifteen minutes out from the hanger where they're meeting Gaalan and the Irish but it feels like they're only in the truck for a few seconds, a couple flashes of awareness, bright and sharp and still like it's all already happened and it's two weeks from now and someone's showing Tig the photo album. Jax closing the doors, silhouetted against the back window. Clay changing his shirt, bruising around the edges of the blacked-out tattoo on his shoulder, mottled patches wrapped around his ribs. Clay sitting on the bench across from him, elbows on his knees, eyes locked with Tig's.

He knows he opens his mouth a hundred times to say it, but he never hears the words come out. Maybe they just don't get a picture of that part.

*

Clay looks at him, but goes to Juice instead. Tig's not surprised. He earned that.

*

"Guess you had another vote I wasn't privy to," Clay says, and - they didn't, Tig's sure they didn't, he doesn't remember it, he never - but they're here, so they must have.

*

"Let's go," he says. Get it over. Get it done.

*

He watches. He has to watch. If he doesn't, Jax will make him do it again.

The first one's enough, but Jax doesn't stop there. He's never known when to fucking stop.

*

Instant replay, high-definition. Clay's face goes tight. Jax got him in the throat. He couldn't even do it clean - it comes out in spurts, gets everywhere. Tig finds the spray on his cut later, on his gloves, on the cuff of his pants. Maybe that was Jax's point. 

*

They're at the cabin. Tig doesn't know how they got there. Bobby's going to die, and then Bobby's going to be fine. It feels the same either way. Tig leans on the mantle and tries not to wonder if Clay's hands had ever been here, where his are now. When he closes his eyes, he can hear Clay breathing. Trying to.

He should have voted no. Jax still would have done it. But then Tig would be with him.

* 

He keeps thinking he's going to wake up.

*

_what will i do now, with my hands?_


End file.
